


Slip Into That Rhythm Again

by Doodlelupin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (brief vomit mention in chapter 3 sorry), (not physically present but mentioned a fair bit), 2 adhd kings relating, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Coming Out, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, Emetophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has ADHD, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist With a Cane, M/M, Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker Has ADHD (The Magnus Archives), apologies folks that unfortunately is not really sasha, because I say so!, i dont know what to tag this as, i think by chapter 3 its gotten to emotional hurt comfort, its not quite hurt/comfort its more like. empathy idk, tim irritating jon (affectionate), tim trying to cheer up jon, workplace chats with martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28365264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodlelupin/pseuds/Doodlelupin
Summary: Jon's day seemed to get off to a bad start. Perhaps Tim can help?original title was "for some reason i find myself lost in what you think of me/ and too confused to choose who i should be"
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> takes place just post-worm incident. title only like. tangentially relates lmao...might work it in more in the next chapter

Jon stomped through the bullpen towards his office. He looked like he had been hit by a truck. This wasn’t a particularly new development; he often showed up to work on little sleep with no regard for what he was wearing, especially when they had been working on a particularly difficult task. It definitely became a more common sight when he took the job as Head Archivist. In Research, at least, they had a boss to level out their workload; with Jon in charge, there was no end to the amount of work Jon though he had to accomplish. Tim hated to watch him overwork himself like this. He resolved to invite him out for drinks later. He would wait until he was seated though. He was half-worried Jon would hit him with that cane he was wielding if he asked him anything now.

"Hey, boss!" Tim called, giving him a little smile and a wave. Jon sent back a glare instead of a response. So. He'd be sending Martin in with tea first to help cool him down. Good to know. Tim popped in his headphones and turned back to his work. 

* * *

Before Tim even got a chance to ask, he looked up to see Martin setting a mug on his desk. 

“Oh, thanks!” Tim grinned, pulling out one of his earbuds.

“No problem.” Martin smiled. “Jon is... _ not _ in a good mood today.” He chuckled, leaning back against Tim’s desk.

“Yeah, I heard him stomping.” Tim nodded. They both stared at his office door, lost in thought. Tim shook his head to clear it.

“Anyway- how’s the research going on Grifter’s Bone? Find anything yet?” Tim asked.

“No, nothing more than some forum posts asking about them. You?”

“More than I’ve got.”

“Well. Better get back to it.” Martin sighed.

“Probably.” Tim nodded. “Thanks again for the tea.” Tim smiled. Martin nodded. He didn’t make any motion to leave. Tim didn’t really want to get back to work either.

“How’s living back in your flat again?” he asked instead.

“It’s…” Martin started. He was clearly searching for a work-appropriate answer to the question.

“I get it.” Tim nodded. “Nightmares...itching…” He shuddered. Martin nodded.

“Triple checking every room.”

“Yeah…” Tim breathed. “Hey, if you ever need to get out of your flat I have a couch that is very comfortable.” Martin smiled.

“Thanks, Tim. I’ll keep that in mind. Really should get back to work now.” He patted Tim on the shoulder and went back to his desk.

Tim had never been good at dealing with interruptions. He wasn’t going to be able to just slip back into working, so he might as well annoy his boss. He clicked over to the open Spotify tab on his computer. He’d followed everyone he knew. He liked to see what they were listening to, go through some of their playlists every once in a while. It also helped him know who was feeling extra down (aka Martin on a Mitski binge).

Jon had apparently been listening to Bach. Unsurprising. He mostly listened to classical music in the office. He said it helped him work. Tim listened to music while working too, so he got it. He did catch Jon listening to some more classic rock every once in a while, though, dropping the tired academic cliche for a little Pink Floyd or whatnot; Fleetwood Mac if he was really feeling it. Tim thought he might be hiding something though. Anyone in the same room as Jon in his research days could hear the screamo blasting in his headphones. Maybe he’d grown out of it. Maybe he only listened to classical music at work to maintain a professional air. He could hear his music playing through his office door when he walked by; maybe Jon knew it and only played music he thought to be “fitting of a Head Archivist”. That wasn’t a sentiment he’d expressed to Tim outright, but he could tell Jon felt underqualified for the job. To be fair, he was underqualified.

Tim realized he had zoned out. Anyway. Time to check in. Tim didn’t bother to knock on the office door before opening.

Jon had his head in his arms on the desk, the classical music playing rather loud. He also had...headphones on? The Bach was playing through his laptop, but he had headphones plugged into his phone. He hadn’t moved when Tim opened the door. 

“Uh, boss?” Tim put a hand on his shoulder. Jon jumped, eyes wide. He scrambled to pull out his headphones, pausing the music on his laptop.

“Tim! I- um- I-” Jon stammered, searching for an explanation.

“What are you doing?” Tim asked in a sing-song tone.

“I- I was- I was-uh...I was listening to-that’s none of your business.” Jon tried to save face.

“That’s incredibly suspicious of you, Jon.” Tim scolded. “Am I going to have to call Sasha in to weed the truth out of you?” He tilted his head up and brought a hand to his mouth, ready to shout. Jon smacked him lightly.

“I will _ kill _ you.” He hissed. Tim laughed.

“What is it then?”

“I- I was listening to music that….didn’t really fit the whole…’Head Archivist’ thing.” Jon muttered. So Tim had been right.

“Like, explicit?”

“I mean, yeah.” Jon nodded, though that didn’t seem to be the whole issue.

“Your...screamo?”

“What?”

“Like you used to listen to in Research?”

“Like I- what?”

“You blare your music so loud, everyone could hear it.”

“I-” Jon looked incredibly flustered. “I wouldn’t really call it screamo.” He grumbled. Tim laughed.

“Can I hear?” Tim asked. Jon shook his head. “Aw, come on, boss. I won’t tell anyone.”

“We are not listening to My Chemical Romance-

“My Chemical Romance?!” Tim gasped gleefully.

“In my office.” Jon finished, glaring at Tim.

“Emo. Would never have pegged you as emo.” Tim shook his head in joyful disbelief.

“Tim, I will fire you.” Jon growled. Tim laughed.

“No, no, I love it. But, one question-why does it not show up on your Spotify?” Jon dropped eye contact. “Jon…?”

“I-I may have...a second Spotify account.”

“You have a  _ what _ ?”

“Well, you were asking and I- I didn’t want you to see- I knew you’d look and I didn’t....want you to know what I was listening to all the time so...I set up another account so I could listen to...less professional music on it. I didn’t want you to judge me.” He huffed defensively.

“I wouldn’t judge you, Jon.” Tim said softly. The moment felt far too intimate for a discussion about  _ Spotify _ , but Tim knew how awful RSD could be. Jon had a hard time revealing things about himself, and though this was a little extreme it definitely was not out of nowhere.

Jon opened his mouth to respond but closed it without making a sound. He looked lost for words.

"Thank you, Tim."

"You don't have to thank me. It's common decency." They remained silent for a moment, Tim studying Jon's face and Jon looking anywhere other than at Tim.

"So…" Tim began. "Can I take a look at your real Spotify account?" He smirked. Jon rolled his eyes.

“I just said-”

“Okay, after work then. I was going to go get some drinks, I can invite Martin and Sasha along, have a nice little after work-”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“We won't be out  _ all night _ . And I think we deserve a little break, after…” He didn’t even have to gesture, the...infestation was impossible to forget. Jon was hard to look at sometimes. Reminded him too much of his own wounds.

“Fine.” Jon sighed. “But they don’t get to know about my music.”

“Got it. I’ll drive you and we can listen in the car?”

“Sure.” He nodded, resigned.

“Great.” Tim grinned. “Alright, better get back to work.” Jon looked relieved. “And drink your tea, it’s going to get cold.” Tim was pretty sure he’d forgotten he even had it.

“Oh. Thanks, I will.” Tim gave him one more grin before he left him to his work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the end of the day! Now Tim can figure out what Jon was so worried about him hearing.

“Time to go, boss!” Tim called, knocking on the doorframe of Jon’s office.

“Alright, one minute.” Jon waved him off. Instead of leaving like Jon was probably hoping for, Tim came in and sat on his desk. Jon glared at him.

“What? I assume you won’t be long. You don’t know where I’m parked.”

“Alright.” Jon sighed. 

“Want me to pack up these statements?” Tim asked, hand hovering over the papers on Jon’s desk. He didn’t want to mess with his things without asking.

“Um...sure, yeah.” Jon nodded, putting his laptop in his bag. Tim helped him tidy up and they were finished in no time.

“Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it. Car’s out back, let’s go.” Tim readjusted his jacket as he got to his feet. Jon grabbed his cane and his bag and they left the office. Tim wanted to offer to carry Jon’s bag but he didn’t want to be overbearing or act like Jon wasn’t capable. He decided to tease instead.

“Care to give me a taste of what we might be listening to?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Not even a little hint?” Tim asked, giving him his best puppy-dog eyes. Jon hesitated, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as if he had thought of a joke.

“You’ll find out when you find out.” He said decisively, speeding up so he could hide his face from Tim. For a short man with a cane, he sure was speedy.

Lucky for Tim, he had gotten a spot rather close to the exit today. They got in, Tim handing him the aux cord immediately. Jon reluctantly took it, plugging in his phone while Tim started the car. He scrolled for a bit, but he was going up and down, staring in one place. He wasn’t actually looking, he was procrastinating. Tim stared at him expectantly.

“I don’t know what-”

“Your favourite song that I have not heard.”

“I don’t have-”

“First song you can think of -right now, go!”

Jon closed his eyes and tapped the song his finger had been hovering over. It began with an arpeggio on the piano. Okay, this was kind of fun. Minor key, a little flashy with the piano playing, almost jazzy.

The vocals started and the piano in the background seamlessly transitioned into a...polka? Still had the dark tone, but definitely a polka. The voice was deep and the lyrics were fast. It was...really good actually. Definitely strange, but really good. 

Jon was looking incredibly nervous. Tim bounced along to the music to show he was enjoying it. He made sure to not overdo it, though, didn’t want to look like he was pretending. He did actually like it.

The chorus was fun in a ‘having a breakdown’ sort of way. Unfortunately relatable, but that did make Tim like the song more. He didn’t want to be too presumptuous but from how nervous Jon looked he thought he might also relate.

The bridge was something else entirely. It started off with the vocalist alone with the piano, slowly building up speed and energy and instruments as it moved from a soft wail to a full scream. The vocalist began to yell and the background vocals yelled and glass was shattering and the piano was going  _ off _ … slowed back down with a couple more repetitions of the chorus, starting off low, building once more to a yell and ending with a final, borderline pathetic whine.

It ended with a heavy chord on the piano.

“Wow.” Tim muttered softly. Jon paused the music so the next song wouldn’t play.

“That’s... what I was listening to.”

“That was...wow. Who was that?”

“Will Wood and the Tapeworms. That one’s called Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In.”

“What genre would you call that?”

“He doesn’t really stick to any genre. I’ve heard the band labelled as everything from rock to dark cabaret to polka to evil ska.” Jon shrugged.

“Evil ska?” Tim laughed.

“That one was more polka than ska, he has some more upbeat ones-”

“Put one on!”

“Wait-really?”

“What do you mean ‘really’? Of course!”

“I- It’s just-” Jon looked down at his phone.

“It’s just?” Tim prompted gently. He knew where this was going.

“I usually have my aux cord rights revoked after playing something like that.”

“I asked. I want to know what you listen to! Says a lot about a person. Plus, that song was incredible.” 

“Wasn't it?” Jon grinned. “Alright, this one’s called Second-Sight-Seer, except all of the s’s are 2s.”

He put on another song. Tim decided they should actually start driving. He backed out while the music started up. It started with some “ah”s before jumping into a fun beat. Definitely more upbeat than the last. Fun sax and trumpets in the background, the vocals sliding all over the place, lyrics very fast and barely comprehensible-this one was _ really  _ good. Tim nodded along to the beat.

“He’s talking about actual psychosis, by the way. He’s not just saying ‘I’m a psycho’ to be edgy.” Jon blurted out after the first chorus.

“Oh, good!” Tim laughed. “I didn’t think you would like something like that but I couldn't tell exactly what he was talking about.”

They both quieted down to listen to the music. Tim could see Jon tapping his foot out of the corner of his eye and mouthing the lyrics. He leaned over and turned up the volume far too loud. They both grinned, nodding along to the chorus again. Tim danced in his seat as best he could without crashing the car. When the song ended, Jon paused the music to wait for Tim’s reaction.

“Yeah, I can see evil ska.” Tim laughed. “That was great. You said he does a lot of genres? How about another one that’s tonally different to both of those?”

“Ahead of the game.” Jon grinned. Tim was glad to see him getting comfortable. “This one is called Love Me Normally. I’m playing a live version because I like it more than the studio version.” Tim nodded. He took a left turn he did not need to. He wanted to hear more. Jon had been pulling away lately, no doubt shook by the whole...situation. This was the closest he’d felt in a while. He was afraid even getting out of the car might ruin the moment. Jon was too busy looking for the song, anyway. And he was horrible with directions. He wouldn't notice.

The recording started with an introduction. Jon had clearly ripped it off Youtube and hadn't bothered to trim the beginning. Tim smiled, imagining the oh-so-professional Mr. Sims sitting in his home office with Youtube to MP3 converter open.

The actual song itself started with a soft piano intro. Very barebones, but it didn’t feel lacking. Just piano and vocals. It was quite different from the last two songs in a good way. The versatility was rather impressive.

The vocals weren’t perfect but they added to the charm of the song. It came across like a lounge singer, complete with a section directly addressing the audience. The bridge brought the energy Tim was beginning to expect from this artist, desperate and loud. His heart swelled with the music. He didn’t catch all the lyrics but it definitely seemed like something he wanted to look up later. Something or other about trying to be a normal person and struggling to have a normal relationship? He definitely understood  _ that  _ particular struggle.

Unfortunately, Jon looked up and caught sight of the pub. Tim had to pull into a parking spot instead of circling the block once or twice more.

“Text me the name of that band, I wanna check them out later.” Jon looked pleasantly surprised but did as he was told. “We can listen to more on the way back-oh damn.” Tim sighed. “I brought the car. Designated driver, I suppose.” He smiled. Jon unplugged the aux cord and pocketed his phone.

“Text sent. I’d offer to drive-”

“-If you had your license. Yeah, no worries. I don’t mind. Get to see what you’re like drunk without my own intoxication weighing me down.” He grinned.

“Absolutely not. It is a Tuesday afternoon.”

“Evening, and we’ll see about that.” Jon rolled his eyes and got out of the car, leaving his bag. 

“Should I bring my cane? We’re just stepping inside.” Jon hummed in thought.

“No, don’t bother. Leave it in the car. You wouldn’t want to forget it.” Tim leaned on the bonnet of the car next to the passenger side door. Jon nodded in agreement and placed his cane back in the car before shutting the door. 

He looked up at Tim. Tim gestured towards the door. 

“After you.”

Jon led the way into the pub. Sasha waved him down from a table in the back corner. No surprise her and Martin had arrived first. They were sitting across from each other. Unfortunate, Tim had been hoping to sit beside Jon. However, watching Martin get flustered would be funny. He walked past Jon and slid in beside Sasha before Jon could. He flashed him a glare and reluctantly sat beside Martin. Tim gave him a big grin. 

“So. What are we all getting?” he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he said he was listening to mcr but tim also listens to mcr so he played the song he was listening to before that (i know no one cares about the continuity in this incredibly self-indulgent fic but iiiii do)
> 
> next chapter is like almost written itll be up tomorrow (this may end up being 4 chapters haha)
> 
> anyway stream wwatt


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon had...more than a few too many. Good thing he's got Tim to take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like this chapter isnt as well written as the other 2, but hopefully the extra content makes up for it?  
> (also tw for emetophobia, vomiting is mentioned very briefly a couple times but there are no graphic details)

“So much for ‘It’s Tuesday afternoon’,” Tim laughed to himself, half listening to Jon’s drunken rambling about...what was it now? Morse code?

“It’s a cipher, I- I don’t know why they’d call it a code. Letters….not words…” He was mumbling, more to himself than anyone else. He drank fast and he was a lightweight. Dangerous combo. Martin was beet red, definitely at _ least  _ tipsy. He wasn’t quite as far gone as Jon, but definitely intoxicated. Sasha had always been able to hold her alcohol and tonight was no exception. She also hadn’t had quite as many drinks as Jon and Martin. She was mainly rolling her eyes while Jon ranted about various topics. Tim checked his watch. 

“Oh, it’s 1am. We should probably get going soon.” Tim gasped.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jon muttered, shaking his head. “No, it can't be, though, see, because it’s...it’s a night...we have to...do...that thing tomorrow.”

“...Work?” Martin asked, failing to suppress a grin.

“Yeah! That. Hang on- one more? Clover Club?” He waved at the waitress while she walked by. She nodded and left.

“Jon, I think you’ve had enough.” Tim chuckled.

“I can have one more.” Jon frowned. He slumped against Martin’s shoulder. Martin froze, his face somehow managing to get even more red. It seemed Jon’s energy had left with the end of his rant.

The waitress returned with a pink drink that looked like it was deceptively cute. Jon thanked her and took a sip. He nodded in time with the music playing. Tim was enjoying watching him.

Before Tim knew it Jon had finished his drink.

“Alright, boss, we’d better get you home.”

“Yes, yes.” He scowled waving him off. “Anyway, Martin. You- do you have any pets?” He turned around entirely in his seat so he was sitting cross-legged on the bench, facing Martin. 

“I- um-no?” Martin stammered, clearly struggling to focus with Jon so close to him.

“You should.”

“Should I?”

“You should. You look like you would own...a dog.” Jon frowned disapprovingly.

“What does that mean?” Martin laughed.

“You know. Soft. Loyal. Perky? That’s not the word. Peppy? Like- Optimistic. Not energetic but kind of like that. Happy? Anyway, cats are better than dogs so it doesn’t matter.” Martin let out a small noise, offended.

“What, are you going to tell me dogs are better? Misogynist?”

“Miso- what?” Martin spluttered.

“Okay, okay, let’s get out of here before you embarrass yourself too much.” Tim interrupted, sliding out of the booth and helping pull Jon to his feet. He was still mumbling something about society’s views on animals? Tim didn’t feel like trying to decipher- no, decode, apparently. Sorry Jon- whatever he was trying to say.

“Have to...pay.” Jon gestured broadly at the bar. Tim sighed and helped him over.

“I’ll be right back.” He patted Jon on the back and made sure he had a good grip on the bar before heading back to the table to say his goodbyes.

“Bill, please.” Jon asked politely, pointing back at their table. The bartender nodded. “And a French 75.” He whispered loudly. The bartender nodded again and brought him both.

“Alright, ready to-where’d that come from?” Tim asked, exasperated. Jon pointed behind the bar. Tim shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re going to have quite the hangover tomorrow, Mr. Sims.”

“Mx?”

“Mx. Sims.” Tim corrected himself. Well. That was some new information. He would...figure out what to do with that later. “Drink up. We’ve gotta get going.”

“You said that already.”

“You keep buying more drinks!”

“Yeah.” Jon smiled, sipping Exhibit A. Tim rolled his eyes affectionately, leaning against the bar while he waited. Jon swayed to the music while he sipped.

“Can you see straight enough to pick out the music for the ride home?” Tim asked. “Was looking forward to hearing more of that...Tapeworm guy.”

“Don’t say worm.” Jon snapped.

“Sorry.”

“But yeah.” He finished his drink. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Jon clung onto Tim’s arm. “Home?”

“Home.” Tim nodded, patting Jon’s hand. He helped him out of the pub.

“Oh no…” Jon said softly as they entered the parking lot. Tim pulled him quickly around to the trash bin outside. Just in time. Tim pulled his hair back, taking out the elastic that was holding the top half back and pulling it all into a bun to keep it out of the way. Tim winced, rubbing Jon’s back.

“I told you not to order more.” He said gently.

“Shut up.” Jon choked out between heaves. Tim texted Sasha asking her to bring out a water bottle. She opened the door a moment later, laughing.

“Surprised you made it outside, honestly.” She handed Tim the water bottle. Jon glared up at her, still curled over the bin.

“Thanks, Sash.” Tim said, holding up the water bottle. “I’ve got Jon, you can go back in.”

“Already sat through hours of stuff pouring out of his mouth, this isn’t too different.” Sasha smirked. “Martin and I were enjoying the peace and quiet, though. See you tomorrow.” She turned and headed back inside. Tim stared after her in disbelief.

“What the hell was that?” He muttered. He looked down at Jon, hoping he had missed that little comment. Jon was spitting into the trash, holding out a hand for the water bottle. Tim opened it for him and handed it over. He pulled out some napkins he had crammed into his pocket earlier and held them out as well. Jon rinsed out his mouth thoroughly, wiping his face off with the napkins once he was satisfied.

“Thanks, Tim.” Jon said softly.

“Anytime, pal. I mean- I’d rather you didn’t...y’know. But if it does happen, I’m here for you.” He held out his arm for Jon. Jon took it with trembling hands. Poor guy. Tim helped him into the car. He opened the glove box and handed him a plastic bag.

“I don’t-”

“I know, I know. Just in case.”

“Okay.” Jon put the bag in his lap.

“Do you want to stay at mine tonight? I’m not sure I want to leave you alone.”

“You don’t have to-”

“That’s not what I asked you, Jon.”

Jon looked down at his lap silently.

“My place is alright, then?” Tim pressed.

“If you-”

“I do.”

“Then...yes. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.” Tim patted his shoulder and closed the door. Jon looked like he was mumbling something but by the time Tim got in he had gone silent.

“Want to put on some music?” Tim asked, holding out the cord.

“Are you sure?” Jon asked.

“I told you I liked it. I want to hear more.”

“Um, alright. Give me...a genre.” Jon said, squinting at his phone. 

“That first one you played sounded like it was about...addiction?”

“Alcoholism.” Jon nodded.

“Sounds familiar. Another song about drinking, then?”

“Got it. This one’s fun.” Jon clicked on a song. “If you don't pay too much attention to the lyrics.” 

Tim nodded and pulled out of the car park. It started with some chanting that sounded like it was backwards. The chanting was quickly replaced with some jazzy piano. Like the other song, the vocals slid all over. It seemed like it’d be fun to sing. 

“I’d try to see the glass half full...but I’d probably just drink that too!” Jon sang along to the chorus, starting to move to the music. Tim joined in on the dancing, restricted by his seatbelt. The song was quite catchy and the instrumentals impressive, though it didn’t surprise Tim too much anymore. He wasn’t expecting the screaming at the end of the song but honestly? It wasn’t out of place. The song ended with some drunken yelling but Jon paused it before he could tell exactly what it was. Tim glanced over at him as they pulled up to a red light. He looked a bit embarrassed, though Tim couldn’t tell exactly what about; throwing up, singing along, how much he spoke in the pub (which Tim didn’t take issue with but he knew Jon was sensitive about it at times)...

He decided to focus on the music for now.

“That was so good, Jon. Where did you find this? How did I not know about them?” Tim asked. Jon laughed, shrugging.

“Can’t remember. They’re not, like...big. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately, indeed. Let’s hear some more!”

“M’kay. Genre?”

“How about something soft?” Tim asked. Jon sighed and clicked on a song with a wistful smile.

“This one.”

The song started off with some general noises, laughing and a tambourine, silencing after a moment and replaced with some piano and drums. The lyrics were rather sweet, talking about a “place to get away from it all”. It felt warm and hopeful.

As the song progressed, however, the lyrics changed. The bridge turned depressing quickly, shifting from pleasant daydreaming about a potential future to decrying the possibility such a future could exist. It ended with a twist on the phrase that had been repeated throughout the song, now becoming “ _ no, I don’t believe _ there’s a place I could go, a place to get away from it all.”

The piano faded out, leaving the car in a melancholy silence.

“God.” Tim said softly. Jon hummed in agreement. “That was really pretty. Do they have another soft one?”

“This one…”Jon said, clicking on another song.

Once again, piano cued in the song. Tim’s soft smile slowly slipped from his face as the verse progressed. This one was about wanting a person back, having someone fix your heart just enough that you can feel their loss, begging them to fit as comfortably with you as they once did. Tim stared hard at the road, gritting his teeth as he focused on the lyrics. It...hit a little too close to home. From the way Jon was sniffling in the passenger seat, he thought he may be having the same problem. Tim never knew whether to acknowledge when someone was crying or not; some people preferred to pretend they were fine while others wanted permission to let it all out. They were almost back at his flat. He’d give Jon till then to either stop crying, bring it up himself, or wait long enough for Tim to look over and ‘realize’ he was crying. He cleared his throat before speaking up when the song ended.

“Dealer’s choice.” Jon wordlessly put on another song.

Started with a yell followed by piano, switching up the formula this time. A ballad almost? Just piano and vocals. Existential. Tim felt like he would need a bit to fully comprehend the lyrics. Not an issue with diction but meaning. He thought he’d need to sit with the song to let it properly sink in. It felt...heavy. Tim’s contemplation of the song was cut short by his flat’s appearance. He pulled into his usual spot and put the car into park. They sat in silence for a moment, Jon having unplugged his phone when the song ended. Jon was still sniffling.

“So.” Tim said.

“So.” Jon replied.

“Do you...want to talk about it?”

“Maybe inside.”

“Right. Good idea.” Tim got out and went around the car to Jon’s side. He opened the door for him.

“Ever the gentleman.” Jon laughed. Tim rolled his eyes and smiled, taking the plastic bag from him and putting it back into the glove box. He pulled Jon’s bag onto his shoulder before Jon could protest and stood back upright, holding out a hand to Jon.

Jon took it, shakily getting to his feet. He held his cane in one hand and clung to Tim with the other. They slowly made their way up to Tim’s flat.

Once inside, Tim led Jon over to the couch, sitting him down and putting his bag down next to him.

“You know where the bathroom is if you need it. Want some pjs?”

“Please.”

Tim ducked into his bedroom and grabbed Jon a clean t-shirt and sweatpants. They were going to be far too big on him but...that was rather cute. And it was comfortable to wear baggy clothes to sleep in, anyway.

He handed them to Jon, who was still sitting on the couch, and stepped into the kitchen to get Jon a glass of water. He brought it out and set it on the coffee table. Jon was in the bathroom getting changed. Tim rushed into his bedroom and kicked the laundry on his floor under his bed, straightening the blankets on his bed and pulling his closet door shut to hide the mess behind it. It was...acceptable. He certainly wasn’t making Jon sleep on the couch.

He stepped back out into the living room. Jon was just exiting the washroom, leaning heavily on his cane. He looked exhausted (like usual) and definitely still drunk. His eyes were a little puffy from crying in the car. He also looked adorable in the clothes that were far too large, the t-shirt halfway down his thighs and the legs of the sweatpants covering his feet. His hair was only half contained in the quick bun Tim had thrown it into, the other half falling about his shoulders. Tim hid a smile. He knew Jon would get mad if he called him cute. Even if he was.

“Those clothes alright?” He asked instead.

“They’re great, thanks.”

“I told you you didn’t have to keep thanking me.”

“I can do what I want,  _ thank you _ .” Jon said pointedly.

“Fine, have it your way.” Tim laughed. “Sit down though, please. Unless you want to go to bed right now.”

“No, I’m not tired yet.” Jon shook his head, hobbling over to the couch, sitting down on the opposite end. He folded his legs beneath him, full body facing Tim. “You probably should, though.”

Tim handed him his glass of water. He took a sip and set it back down.

“I’ll go to bed when you go to bed. I’ll be fine. No arguing, no feeling bad. Changing the topic now. Those songs were...well- especially the last few were…”

“Hard. They, uh. Well, part of the reason I like their music so much is just...the lyrics. I don’t know how he- well, I know obviously people can have similar life experiences but I’ve shared so many of the exact same sentiments before. It’s almost spooky.”

“Spooky.” Tim laughed. Jon frowned at him. “No, no, you’re right, I was thinking the same thing. Anything...specific you want to talk about?” Tim was trying to ask why he was crying without saying so directly. Jon hesitated for a moment.

“Well...that song that- that I- that I-” Tim placed a reassuring hand on Jon’s knee. Jon took a breath.

“You know.  _ That _ song.” Tim nodded. “It’s called Cover This Song (A Little Bit Mine). It’s…” Jon sighed. “I miss Georgie.”

“Georgie? I think you’ve mentioned Georgie before. It was a while ago, though.”

“My ex.”

“Oh! Right, the one with the cat.”

“The Admiral.” Jon sighed wistfully. “I miss him too.” Jon looked like he was about to say something. He hesitated. Tim waited patiently.

“And...you.” Jon murmured. Tim’s heart..dropped? Jumped in his throat? He couldn’t tell where it was but it was certainly doing something.

“You and Sasha.” Oh. “We...It’s so different now.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Tim replied softly. It was true, he had mostly been thinking about Sasha and Jon when he was listening to that song. In different ways, of course. 

He and Sasha had...been close, to say the least. Back in Research, they had become practically inseparable and, apart from that little awkward blip, the same had been true while working in the Archives. Something had changed between them, though. It was probably the whole...worm thing. Tim was probably hard to look at now, every scar a reminder of how close they’d all been to…

And Jon, well, they had been rather unlikely friends. When Tim joined the Institute, he was in a worse place than Jon. They initially bonded over their academic distaste for the poor work of some of the other researchers. Eventually it became a nice little friendship. Tim had been secretly hoping for a while that it would progress further, but he didn’t want to ruin what they had. He figured he would stick to one workplace relationship for the time being. 

But again, since the Jane Prentiss encounter, things had become tense between them. Jon seemed to be pulling further and further away from everyone, Tim included. 

“It doesn’t...have to be?” Tim offered. “Why can’t we just...what was the lyric…’slip back into that rhythm again’?”

“It’s...it is different. It can’t...I can’t trust…” Jon shook his head hard. “I shouldn’t even- I- I-hang on.” He covered his face with his hands. Tim shifted so he was facing Jon better, one leg up on the couch between them.

“Take your time.” He said gently, patting his knee.

“I shouldn’t be here.” He said decisively, hands still covering his face. “I don’t...know who I can trust. Someone killed Gertrude. It could have been anyone, and I- I should be more careful. I just...I just got... _ drunk _ ! I let my guard down! I could’ve been killed then, slipped something in my drink or pulled me out back and...and...and then I came...back here...with you...and…” He started breathing heavier. Tim gently pulled Jon’s hands away from his face. He flinched hard, yanking his hands away from Tim. Tim put his hands up to signal surrender, leaning back to give Jon some space..

“Jon, with all due respect...you’re mad if you think I’m going to kill you. I watched you puke into a bin. I half-carried you up the steps to my flat. Why would I have done that if I could’ve just shoved you into traffic and been done with it?”

“I-I-I don’t know…”Jon stammered. He was still shaking.

“I didn’t kill Gertrude. And I’m not going to kill you.” Tim said firmly. Jon did not look convinced. “Is there anything I can do to convince you I’m not a...murderer?” Tim felt somewhat ridiculous to even need to have this conversation, but he couldn’t really imagine the stress Jon must be under. Tim was having a hard enough time as it was, but having to run the Archives on top of all that, knowing that your predecessor was murdered in cold blood? He supposed Jon had a reason to be a little high strung.

“I...I don’t…”Jon was shaking his head slowly, still trying to get his breathing back down to normal. 

“Would you feel safer if I gave you my old pocket knife?” Tim offered. Jon didn’t answer so he went into his bedroom and shuffled through the pockets of his coats before finding it in an old leather jacket. He brought it out and pressed it into Jon’s hand.

“To be fair, I have no way of knowing  _ you  _ didn’t do it. I mean...you did get her job once she was out of the way…” Tim teased. Jon’s worry melted off his face.

“Shut up.” He laughed. “Thank you, Tim.” He examined the knife in his hands. Tim had had it since he was a kid. His parents had given him and his brother each a knife with their name engraved on it. Jon flipped it over. Oh no.

“Danny?” He asked, fingers tracing the letters. He looked up at Tim, confused. “Who’s Danny?”

“My brother.” Tim said softly. He slowly sat on the couch.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I...am too sober for this conversation.” Tim said.

“You don’t have to-”

“Would sharing something make me vulnerable enough for you to trust me again?” Tim asked suddenly.

“I-I don’t know.” 

“Well, I’ll tell you what. If you decide that it would, then next time we go drinking, I’ll get a head start and you can ask me about it.” Jon nodded. They sat in silence for a moment longer.

“Am I irritating?” Jon blurted out.

“Are you-what?” Tim laughed, caught off guard by the off-topic question.

“Irritating. As a kid I was just  _ awful _ but I thought I had been doing an alright job at keeping it under wraps.”

“Where did this come from?” Tim asked. Jon hesitated. “Was it Sasha?” Jon nodded, staring hard at the pocket knife to avoid looking at Tim.

“Well, you aren’t. I don't know  _ where _ that little comment came from but it was completely uncalled for. I, for one, like hearing you talk about...morse code and emulsifiers and whatnot. You’re very knowledgeable.”

“Knowledgeable.” Jon scoffed.

“What?”

“You sound like my primary school teachers. ‘Jon is very knowledgeable, but seems to be having trouble making friends’.”

“Common with ADHD.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jon snapped. “Sorry, sorry.” He sighed. “See? This. I… I ranted at you for hours tonight, accused you of murder, and then snapped at you for trying to console me from my little pity party. What...what’s wrong with me?”

“You’re so used to being alone when someone gets too close you try to push them away so you don't get disappointed when they leave.” Tim replied a little too quickly. Jon stared at him, stunned.

“Me too.” He said softly. Jon nodded.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Well, I don’t find you irritating and I don’t plan on leaving you any time soon.” 

“...Thanks, Tim.”

“What have I told you about thanking me?” He shook his head, smiling.

“I can't help it.” Jon shrugged. Something occurred to him. “Oh god…”

“What?”

“What time is it?”

“...You don’t want to know.”

“Work is going to be awful.” He groaned.

“As if it wasn’t already.” Tim replied. Jon chuckled.

“Fair. The hangover is probably going to feel worse than the usual dull ache though.”

“Definitely. You drank a  _ lot _ .”

“I did.” He sighed.

“Finish that glass of water and you can get to bed. No arguing.”

Jon held up his hands in mock surrender and picked up the glass. Tim waited until he’d drained it’s contents.

“Good man.” Tim took the cup from him and refilled it. Instead of handing it back to Jon, Tim held out his other hand. Jon looked confused. “Time for bed.”

“I…”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Jon. You’re going to be in enough pain in the morning without a stiff back from sleeping on a couch. No arguing.”

“Fine, but I’m not stealing your bed and leaving  _ you _ to sleep on the couch.”

“Fair enough.” Tim nodded. Jon took his hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. He left his cane leaning against the couch, wrapping his arm around Tim’s middle for support instead. Tim slid his arm over Jon’s shoulder to help guide him to his bedroom. He set the glass of water on his bedside table, pulling over a trash bin. 

“Just in case.” He said. Jon nodded, climbing into bed. Tim turned out the light and flopped onto the bed beside him, making Jon giggle. He grinned into his pillow. He rolled back onto his side, facing Jon, pulling the blankets over himself. Jon had pulled the blankets up to his chest, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He rolled over to face Tim. They were barely a foot apart.

Jon blinked sleepily, studying Tim’s face. A smile ghosted his lips. 

“Goodnight, Tim.”

“Goodnight.”

It didn’t take Jon long to fall asleep, the pocket knife clutched tight to his chest. Once he did, Tim carefully reached over him and turned off his alarm clock. They weren’t going to work tomorrow. There was no way Jon was going to get anything done, anyway. He’d text Sasha in the morning and ask her to cover for him. Jon deserved a nice, long night of rest. Tim settled back in with a sigh. In his sleep, Jon patted the sheets with his hand, feeling for something. He hit Tim’s chest and stopped tapping, sliding his arm around it, hugging Tim like a teddy bear. Tim wrapped his arm around Jon, suppressing a laugh. Jon might be embarrassed in the morning but Tim was going to enjoy this while it lasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did have plans for 1 more chapter sooo look forward to that i guess haha
> 
> (btw the songs Jon played were The First Step, Lysergide Daydream, Cover This Song (A Little Bit Mine), and -Ish, all by Will Wood and the Tapeworms of course)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more conversations and revelations.

Worms...blood...the pain, yes, but the itching was worse...the squirming...he could feel them wriggling their way into his flesh...burrowing into his bones...hundreds...the rough stone floor beneath him, his nails scraping against his skin trying to get them  _ out- _

“Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout” Tim jerked awake, whimpering. He stilled his hands when he realized he was still scratching his arms, biting his lip and trying to calm himself. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids, trying to focus on anything other than his nightmare. 

He heard a rustle beside him and jumped, terrified it may have been more than a nightmare until he caught sight of Jon curled up beside him.  _ Oh, right. _

Jon had shifted at some point in the night, now clinging to his pillow with his back to Tim. He hadn’t been woken up by Tim’s little panic attack. That was good, at least. Tim propped himself up on an elbow to check the time. They were _ very  _ late for work. Tim grinned. He grabbed his mobile off the nightstand beside him and sent a text to Sasha telling her they wouldn’t be in today. As much as he’d like to get back to sleep, he knew the adrenaline coursing through his veins ruined that possibility. He reluctantly got to his feet, careful not to wake Jon. That man needed as much sleep as he could get.

He went into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Jon would probably be starving when he woke up; he barely ate last night. He’d need something to soak up all that alcohol left in his system. He wasn’t sure if he should head out by himself and bring Jon back something or wait till Jon woke up. After mulling it over, he decided that, since he wasn’t sure when  _ Sleeping Beauty _ would arise and food was always best hot, he’d just wait for Jon. He made himself some toast in the meantime and leant against the counter, messing around on his phone while he waited for the coffee to brew.

He poured himself a cup when it was done, mixed in some cream and sugar, and went back into the living room, flopping unceremoniously onto the couch. He grabbed his controller and checked in on his villagers in Animal Crossing. He had already changed his outfit twice and sold an inventory full of fish by the time Jon stumbled out of the bedroom, holding his head and spluttering about the time.

“Relax, boss, I already called in.” Tim waved him off. He saved the game and put the controller down. “We’re not going in today. You’re not going to get anything done like  _ that _ . Do you want some coffee?” Tim asked. Jon looked like he wanted to argue, but he couldn't deny that his head was pounding.

“Please.” He sighed, dropping onto the couch. Tim smiled and got him a cup of black coffee and an aspirin. Jon nodded in thanks and took the pill, washing it down with a sip of coffee. Tim plopped down next to him on the couch.

“Craving a good fry-up about now.” He mused.

“Me too.” Jon nodded.

“I don’t have...any of the ingredients, though.” Tim laughed. “There’s a place down the street that’s pretty good.”

“Down the street, huh?” Jon looked reluctant.

“I’ve got sunglasses you can borrow for the light, and it’s not very busy so it shouldn't be too loud.”

“Alright.” Jon relented. “Do you mind if I take a shower first, though?”

“Sure. Suppose you don’t have clean clothes to change into, do you?” Tim thought aloud. “I can look through my stuff and see if I have anything.” Jon looked skeptical. Not only was Tim a good deal taller and broader than Jon, their fashion sensibilities were...quite different.

“My clothes from yesterday should be fine.”

“Most of them, but you spilled a fair amount of one of your drinks on your shirt. You’d really rather do the walk of shame smelling of gin than wearing a baggy shirt?” Tim asked.

“Let’s see what you have.” Jon sighed.

“Good ma-oh.” Tim cut himself off. Jon stared at him, confused.

“W-What?”

“Well...you were very intoxicated last night so if you don't want to talk about this I will pretend it didn't happen-don't feel like you have to clarify anything to me if you don't want to... But you corrected me when I called you Mr.”

“A-ah.” Jon said shakily.

“Like I said, if you don’t want to talk about it, it never happened.” Jon paused for a moment, staring at his cup of coffee. He looked up at Tim.

“I’m non-binary.”

“O-Okay, cool!” Tim nodded. He wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to respond. “I’m trans too?” He said. He figured if Jon was sharing, he might as well. Jon nodded, laughing lightly.

“I know, you tend to wear your shirts unbuttoned far enough that I could see your scars.” Tim grinned.

“Hey, might as well show off the nice work.” He smirked. Jon laughed once more. Tim was glad he felt comfortable. “So,  _ Mx. Sims _ ,” Tim started, pausing to watch Jon try to hide his grin. “How do you feel about pronouns?” Jon shrugged.

“I don’t mind he/him pronouns…” He said, obviously leaving something out.

“But..?” Tim prompted.

“I do also like they/them. Like, both.”

“As in ‘My boss, Jon Sims, drank more than his fair share last night. They were absolutely plastered.’?” Tim asked. Jon looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes but was too pleased by Tim’s easy use of their pronouns.

“Exactly. It doesn’t have to be every other time, or anything. Just switching it up whenever. I-If that’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course it isn’t.” Tim scoffed. “You alright with me using gendered terms? Or would you prefer I switch to neutral?”

“Gendered terms are fine! If you do want to throw in some neutral terms every once in a while, though, I won’t stop you.”

“Good to know.” Tim nodded. “Oh, and one last thing-do you want me to keep the neutral terms and pronouns between us? I wouldn’t want to out you by using them around someone who doesn’t know.”

“...If I’m being honest, I hate explaining this sort of thing. The less often I have to do it, the better.” He chuckled sheepishly. “I’m not asking you to come out for me or anything but-”

“If someone questions the pronoun usage, I’ll fill in the gaps.” Tim nodded. Jon smiled gratefully.

“Thanks, Tim.”

“You and your ‘Thanks, Tim’.” Tim rolled his eyes, ruffling Jon’s hair. Jon scowled and smacked at his hand until Tim removed it, getting to his feet. He held his hand out helpfully this time.

“Why don’t we find you some clothes then, comrade?”

“Comrade?” Jon took his hand, pulling himself to his feet.

“It’s gender neutral!” Tim replied. He led Jon back into his bedroom. Jon sat on his bed, dangling their legs over the side facing the closet. They gently swung their legs while Tim looked through his closet for something that might look alright. He pulled out a white button-up with a subtle tan shepherd checks pattern on it, holding it up in front of Jon to check the size. It definitely would be big, but perhaps stylishly so.

“This might work.” Tim hummed thoughtfully. He passed it to Jon. “Try that for now. If you don’t like it I can look for something else.”

“Alright, thanks.” Jon said, taking the shirt. He looked it over as he headed back into the living room to get his bag.

“Towel is in the cabinet!” Tim called, slipping out of the t-shirt he had worn to bed. He pulled on a button-up that had a pattern reminiscent of an arcade carpet. He shut his bedroom door before changing the rest of his clothes, hopping into the living room as he pulled on his socks.

He checked a couple of drawers he used to store random things that didn’t have a designated place but he couldn’t find the sunglasses.

“This is why people organize their flats.” He murmured, returning to his bedroom to continue his search.

“Know they’re here somewhere…” he muttered to himself as he rifled through different drawers. “Aha!” He pulled them out from under a hat, victorious. They had silver wire frames and dark purple lenses. He had some more neutral looking ones somewhere but he was dying to see how Jon looked in these.

“I look ridiculous.” Speak of the devil.

Tim stepped out into the living room, tucking the sunglasses in his shirt pocket for safe keeping. Jon was standing with his arms out, the sleeves hanging over his hands and the ends of the shirt almost to his knees.

“Of course you do, you just threw it on. Tuck it in, for a start.” Jon cast Tim a skeptical look but did as he was told.

“Better already. Now-may I.” Tim stepped closer, hand waiting for permission over his arm.

“Yes, yes.” Jon grumbled. Tim rolled up Jon’s sleeves so they fell halfway up his forearm, pulling out the shirt from his waistband a bit so it wasn’t so tight against his body. He stepped back and looked them over. They stared back at him with a mildly irritated grimace.

“Undo two buttons.” Jon rolled his eyes but followed his orders.

“And add these.” Tim said, pulling the glasses out of his pocket. He opened them and perched them on the bridge of Jon’s nose. 

“Perfect.” Tim grinned. Jon stepped back into the bathroom to check how he looked. They stared at themself, forgetting to hide their surprise at how much a little styling had helped. They dragged their eyes away from the mirror and picked their jaw up off the floor, wiping the look of shock from their face by the time their eyes met Tim’s. Their smile, however, was still blinding.

“Fine.” They said, trying to sound resigned. “I suppose this doesn’t look too bad.”

“Told you so. Now let’s get going, pretty boy.” Tim turned away to leave but not before catching Jon’s aggressive blush. Jon grabbed their cane and their bag and followed Tim out of the flat.

“Alright to walk?” Tim asked as they stepped onto the pavement.

“Yeah, not a problem. It’s beautiful weather.” It was rather uncharacteristically warm for an afternoon in late September. Tim led the way to the place he had been referring to. It was barely a five minute walk. They spent the time in silence. Tim figured Jon would talk if they felt like it. For the time being, Tim was going to enjoy the warmth of the sunlight on his skin, the gentle breeze rustling his hair. 

Their destination was less poetic. Not a dive by any means, but certainly not romantic. It was clean and the food was good, however, which was all that really mattered. Tim held the door for Jon as they entered the restaurant.

They enjoyed their meal, the food and conversation warm and pleasant. Tim even managed to talk Jon out of heading into work for the day. He drove Jon back to his own flat with a vow not to tell Sasha or Martin about their little cuddle session the night prior, contingent on Jon remaining in their flat.

“Resorting to blackmail, are we, Tim? Thought you were better than this.” Jon sighed wearily.

“You’re lucky I didn’t think to take any pictures.” Tim smirked.

Tim let him keep the sunglasses in exchange for his actual Spotify account name. After dropping Jon off, Tim clicked on the newly public playlist titled:  _ Slip Back Into That Rhythm Again _ and drove home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thats it! hope you liked :) sorta lost momentum at the end, hope it wasnt noticeable  
> (oh and for the uninitiated the playlist was named after a line in the song that made Jon cry, the one about wanting to become close again with someone you once were close to)

**Author's Note:**

> yes this was an excuse to assert my opinions about jon's music taste and yell about will wood <3


End file.
